


Reminiscent

by Eirius



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, I don't even know what to tag this as, disregard these entirely they don't matter, i just got bored in class and decided to write, im sorry im not really good at this entire tagging thing especially on something this short lmao, ozpin is mentioned but not actually involved directly so I didn't include him in the character list, this was the result of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirius/pseuds/Eirius
Summary: The night following Ozpin's introduction into his life, Oscar finds himself making a cup of hot cocoa.





	Reminiscent

**Author's Note:**

> me? posting something?? well I decided I should finally actually post something before the one year mark of this account- so here's this utter mistake, a prime example of what happens when I get bored in class.

Oscar had never liked hot cocoa.

For as long as he could remember, he had almost hated how it tasted. He wasn’t one for excessively sweet nor scalding warm things, so it was only natural that he found himself without any love for hot cocoa. His aunt kept a supply of mix for it in the pantry; from what she told him, he was quite good at preparing it, though he certainly wouldn’t know either way as he never taste-tested it for her. He settled for taking her word on the matter, never with any reason to confirm her opinions. 

It came as a dull shock to him when he realized he had idly began to make hot cocoa without his aunt asking for him to.

Oscar froze, stopping himself from continuing to stir the drink he hadn’t been consciously aware he had began to prepare while lost in his thoughts. The process was something he could likely do in his sleep- heat up water, go to the pantry, mix a few spoons of the cocoa mix into the drink, give to his aunt. The concerning bits to him were how his aunt hadn’t requested for hot cocoa and how he had no recollection of how he had even gotten to the kitchen to begin with.

With suddenly shaky hands, Oscar set the mug down on the table, pulling the chair closest to him out and sitting, simply staring at the drink.

...he had gone to the kitchen to get something to eat or water to drink, right? He had been in his room, sitting on his bed wondering how and _why_ everything had happened, and then he had found himself at the table, mug of hot cocoa in his hands. His mind tended to wander constantly, leaving him spacing out often; perhaps his aunt had asked him to make hot cocoa and he had forgotten or gotten sidetracked. She was nowhere to be seen, however, leaving him with some feeling that could only be described as gnawing anxiety- a sinking feeling in his stomach beginning to build. Normally if something like this were to happen, he would go to ask his aunt if she wanted hot cocoa, something she never refused. Taking into consideration the events of the previous day, however, and he couldn’t help but feel this was something more than he could write off as a lapse in thought.

For what felt like the first time since last night, the voice in his head had decided to go silent.

... _Ozpin_. Everything that had happened since he had first spoke in his head felt… no, not surreal. Everything had just felt… _off_. Just _off_. Like a dream that he couldn’t wake up from. Oscar firmly believed he was going at least partially insane; no matter how often the other tried to insist to him that he was perfectly sane, his very presence said otherwise. “Sane” doesn’t mean having a voice in your head out of the blue claiming to be the headmaster of a school you haven’t ever been near. “Sane” doesn’t mean said voice in your head trying to convince you you _are_ sane while simultaneously trying to sway you into going on sone vast journey to save the world. As far as Oscar was concerned, if Ozpin was there, he wasn’t sane, no matter how much proof the other offered to show that he wasn’t just a product of his imagination. But the most important part of all of this was probably the fact that “sane” does not mean questioning every single thought that comes into your head.

Oscar was haunted by a nagging feeling that Ozpin could likely hear all of this conversation with himself- to be worried about that, though, meant that a part of him deep down accepted that Ozpin was real. Then he’d try to wonder if those thoughts were even really his own, which led him back to debating whether or not Ozpin really even _existed_ \- he didn’t like the cycle at all, since all it really did was scare him and leave him with more questions than he would likely ever get answers to. Who was Ozpin, really? Was he even real? Why was he in his head? What had happened to him? Why was he going insane suddenly? Why did he treat the world like it was some fairy tale begging for a completion- a completion he was supposed to bring?

Why now had he decided to go silent?

The hot cocoa- now likely more mildly warm cocoa than anything- still sat on the table where he had left it. He had been staring at it for minutes now, letting his thoughts stray. Oscar sighed, glancing away from the mug and looking around the kitchen to see if anything had changed. Looking out of the window, he could see that it was dark outside- far darker than he thought it had been. How long had he been thinking upstairs before he had come down here? His aunt still wasn’t there- probably sleeping by now- leaving him alone with the cup of cocoa. ...was he even really alone now? Would he _ever_ be truly alone again?

...he was tired of thinking of all of this. He had come into the kitchen to get something to eat or to drink to try to help him calm down, and this type of thinking wasn’t helping him at all. The voice in his head had finally decided to leave him to himself and stop talking, and all he was doing was stressing himself out perhaps more than he would be if Ozpin hadn’t gone quiet and left him in silence. The mug of cocoa was still sitting on the table; the desire to drink it confused and almost frightened him, considering he still wasn’t entirely sure why he had prepared it in the first place. He didn’t like hot cocoa. He had no reason to want to drink hot cocoa- which led him once again to wondering if Ozpin somehow had something to do with the matter.

Imagine that- the voice in his head, drinking from a mug of hot cocoa while he watched him struggle over whether or not to give in to the urges to just drink the damn cocoa and not let it go to waste. Wouldn’t that just be _lovely_?

Without giving himself more time to think about it, the idea of getting water or food almost entirely abandoned, Oscar lifted the cup of hot cocoa to his lips and took a sip.

...he had never even liked hot cocoa, but just this once, it tasted fine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> so there's that! it's a whole mess and shouldn't be used as an indicator for my writing- things are usually a lot longer i promise lol. speaking of i might start posting more of the things I write on here assuming I write enough stuff I actually like enough to share ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
